Pieces
by Lady Anwe
Summary: A piece that I plan on using hopefully in my own story, but here's a part that I had to get out. I fully support Wesker and Claire! Claire is taking a shower and leaves the door open. Rather sweet and touching if you ask me. Hopefully not too OOC...


This is a completely random story that popped into my head while reading Ornamental Nonsense's beautifully written stories of Claire and Wesker. I plan on putting this into my own story when I finish it, but for now, I'll give it to the public and let them destroy it. :)

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Claire felt strong, firm hands on her hips as she rinsed herself in the hot water of her shower.

"Dear heart," Wesker murmured as he kissed her neck in his slow, methodical fashion. His hands pulled her back against his chest under the spray of hot water.

"I was trying to enjoy my shower," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned back against him, her arms twining around his neck.

He chuckled darkly. "And who's to say that you won't enjoy it?" His nose brushed against her ear, making her sigh and snuggle closer.

"You interrupted," she whispered, her knees trembling as his hands brushed over her stomach and up her sides.

"You did leave the door wide open," he pointed out. "That, to me, merits an invitation. After all, this is my house." His hands whispered over her skin. "Or were you hoping for someone else?"

"Never," she said breathlessly.

"Good," he said, spinning her around and pushing her back against the shower wall in a fierce kiss, his one hand pinning her own tow above her head. His other hand slid up her hip, pulling her against his hard body.

Claire was completely at his mercy as he kissed her thoroughly. She couldn't have moved even if she wanted to, so trapped as she was by his solidness.

"You're mine!" he growled, biting the tendon in her shoulder, making her writhe against him in pleasure.

Claire laughed at throaty, sultry laugh when she felt herself being lifted into his arms urgently and whisked into the bedroom that had become theirs.

The mattress sunk beneath their weight as she cradled the superhuman genius in her arms. "Wesker," she whispered, her eyes reduced to slits in her pleasure.

"Claire," he murmured, bathing her body with kisses.

Her heart almost stopped when she looked into Wesker's burning red eyes. No more were they emotionless and mirror-like, but rather shattered and showing real emotion. The only reason she could tell the difference was because she had spent so much time with him lately.

He kissed a mark on her right shoulder. "Dear heart, what is this car from?" he murmured, tracing it with a pale finger.

Claire struggled to pull her mind from the sensual haze in her head that he had sent her to. "When I was little, Chris tried to teach me how to snowboard. I fell and shattered my shoulder and had to have surgery because it broke through the skin."

Wesker snorted softly. "Stupid Chris. Couldn't even take care of you when you were children." He kissed the offending scar and asked. "And this one?" His fingers brushed over her thigh where a thick ropy scar marred her flesh.

"An accident," she breathed. "I got in an accident on my motorcycle."

Shifting, Wesker kissed her throat again. "And this one?" he asked, slowly turning her over and seeing an ugly purple scar on the back of her left shoulder.

Claire smiled slightly. "You. When you found me on Rockfort Island and smashed my shoulder into the ground. There was a jagged rock under my shoulder that tore it open," she whispered, her voice light and breathy with pleasure.

Gently Wesker ran his tongue over the offending mark and whispered, "I am truly sorry, dear heart."

"Don't be," she breathed. "If none of that had happened, then I wouldn't be here with you now." She turned over to look up at his perfect face.

Glancing down, she put his hands over the ragged scar beneath her breasts. "And this is the one that made me yours completely." I was the scar left from when she died in the raid that had turned her completely like him.

Wesker was silent, tracing the contours of her body in the moonlight and watching her reactions.

"Wesker," she sighed, running her hand through his still perfect hair, offered the pale expanse of her neck to his lips.

His lips caressed her skin and when his nose touched her ear, he whispered, "Stay, dear heart."

Claire shivered as his breath tickled her skin, absorbing his words. "Forever," she murmured, completely and exquisitely lost in Wesker.


End file.
